


Hopeless Masquerade

by onedayvalentine



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onedayvalentine/pseuds/onedayvalentine
Summary: “Aren’t you tired of pretending?” someone asks.“I don’t know,” she says.It is all she can say under her layers and layers of masks.





	Hopeless Masquerade

“Aren’t you tired of pretending?” someone asks.

“I don’t know,” she says. 

It is all she can say under her layers and layers of masks.

“Sorry, could you help me find where this artifact is?” A visitor asks.

“No worries, I’ll lead you there!” she says, a large smile on her face. The mask slides on her face perfectly. It is polished and well maintained, like the artifacts in the museum she works at. She wears it like a second skin.

“There it is,” she points out to the visitor. The visitor thanks her, and her mask is impeccable as she responds with professionalism.

She doesn’t actually work at the museum. 

“Remiel, the boss has issued orders for us to engage in Operation D20,” her partner informs her when she is caught unaware in her quarters. She hastily puts on her mask before turning around to face him. Even though he says it’s fine not to wear one in his presence, she can’t help but do so. It’s become second-nature for her to wear them, after all, and she feels insecure without one on her face.

“I’m coming,” she responds cheerfully. “I can’t believe he’s giving us the honour of doing D20!”

Her partner laughs. It’s rare that she sees him laugh. He only does when he feels at ease, and people feel at ease when they think they know the true self of the other they are talking with. They proceed on with the mission their boss had appointed them.

No one notices her masks, as usual. She looks in the mirror in a public bathroom after completing the mission, and thinks that she doesn’t even notice them anymore.

She wonders if she should take all her masks off sometimes, when she looks at the amalgamation, the mismatch, the eldritch monster in the mirror. But then she remembers that beneath the monstrosity she has created lies an even greater monstrosity. She’ll turn into a ghoul so frightening that all who turn to look at her will immediately die on the spot out of fear.

_Keep your masks on,_ she tells herself, shaking her head. _People like it better this way. People like you better this way. _

One more day of this. And one more day after that, and after that, and after that.

She peels off her mask at last when she is alone. Alone where? Isn’t she always alone? In her state of aloneness, the state of always, eternity, many other words, she puts her mask back into the bag she always carries with her. Inside the bag, many other masks remain. The bag seems to become many pounds heavier than it was before.

Deep inside her mind, the girl, carrying her bag of masks, thinks that they weigh her down. A weight, suffocating her, dragging her into the mud, where all the faceless dead lie. 

She wants to take it off sometimes.

But no one cares about a girl, dancing a lonely, hopeless masquerade. 

So she keeps on dancing.


End file.
